


Stiles and unfortunate weather events

by Late_to_the_fandom



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5 times Derek is ready and 1 time Stiles is, A Bit of Fluff, M/M, i think ?, issues with the weather, kind of a meetcute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 16:16:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14452995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Late_to_the_fandom/pseuds/Late_to_the_fandom
Summary: Stiles is an optimistic dumbass who rarely checks the weather.Derek does and is always prepared.





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles knows he’s an optimist.

Everyone who knows him can vouch for that. They’ll also tell you that he should consider more facts when making a decision.

He’s also an idiot.

 

Point in case: he checked the weather forecast which called for showers but, as the sky was a brilliant blue when he opened the door, he did not grab his umbrella. 

The result is that he’s now walking around the office barefoot while his shoes and socks dry under his desk.

 

He had planned on going out for lunch, so he had no choice but to make a mad dash to the deli.

As luck would have it he stepped in a puddle on his way back.

 

It’s a small blessing that it’s only a few doors down otherwise he’d have probably drowned in the downpour.

 

He endured the good-natured ribbing he received from his coworkers when they saw the wet hem of his pants and his sockless toes.

He laughed and rolled his eyes when one of the girls mentioned that someone had invented a device called an umbrella.

 

-oOo-

 

Derek understands that the weather will change with no discernable pattern.

He trusts his wolf senses when they tell him it’s going to rain.  

When it does, he grabs his slicker or an umbrella and he always packs a lunch, so he won’t have to run out to grab a bite to eat.

 

He smiled when the lanky guy that works across the street went out and came back running ten or fifteen minutes later.

Of course, he was soaking wet, his plaid shirt was plastered to his shoulders and his hair had flattened out.

The moment the man was back at his desk he sat in his chair, took off his dripping shoes and sodden socks and left them to dry.

 

He shook his head at his obvious lack of preparation.  


	2. Chapter 2

Three weeks later finds Stiles a nervous wreck.

 

Today is a big day and he wants to impress the higher ups that are visiting from Head Office.

These kinds of meetings are important, and he works extra hard on how he presents himself.

 

He puts on the slate grey suit, paired with a crisp white shirt and a burgundy tie.

Lydia had bought the outfit as a gift and he remembers she had said it made him to look totally _fuckable,_ which had made him blush like a fifteen-year-old girl.

In his defense, no one had deemed him fuckable before so there is that.

 

He even uses styling products to tame his undisciplined hair, which is no small feat considering it usually adamantly refuses to cooperate.

He’s pleasantly surprised to see that he manages fairly easily, and wow.

Who knew he cleans up this good?

 

Everything goes well, and he makes good time. He finds a parking spot not to far from the building he works at and he even has enough time to make his way to the small café before having to suffer through the meeting.

He leaves the jeep a block away and starts walking towards the sweet caffeinated reward that’s waiting for him.

 

Then all hell breaks loose as a sudden gust of wind just blows around him, creating a mini tornado that whips up sand and dead leaves, pulling at his clothes and messing his hair in the process.

A quick look at his rumpled reflection in the window has him cringing.

Of course, this had to happen today of all days, he never could catch a break after all.

He curses his luck and enters the building, straightening his tie and patting his hair down as best as he can, knowing it’s probably looking like a rat’s nest anyway.

 

It had distracted him enough that he forgot his coffee and it was now too late to get one.

Dang it.

 

-oOo-

 

Derek decided he would not put the sign out on the sidewalk, so he placed it in the window instead, hoping his customers would still see it.

Julia the weather girl had said there would be strong gusty winds today. Judging by the flapping awning and the unidentifiable flying objects passing by, she was right.  

 

He was suddenly captivated by the well-dressed man making his way down the street. He took in the sharp, fitted grey suit that accentuated the width of his shoulders and his trim body.

He pretended he didn’t stare but who was he kidding?  

Apparently, he had a _thing_ for suits.

 

Huh. Who would have thought….

 

The man’s hair was nicely styled, and he looked confident, and, to be honest, the way his pants hugged his lean hips and cupped the curve of his ass was really, _really_. Wow.

Yeah, okay, definitely a new kink right there.

 

He snorted at himself and was about to go back to work when a sudden gust of wind created havoc around the man. His jacket flapped around his hips, his tie flew up in his face, ruffling his hair as unknown debris was thrown around and at him.

He cringed at the sight, and his mouth dropped when he recognised the now messy and unruly hair.

 

Well now.

 

It was the cute lanky guy that got soaked a few weeks earlier….

Shaking his head in surprise, he picked up his tongue from the floor as the man entered the building in front of his, shaking his head disbelievingly.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles was a bit late and he did not have the time to check the weather.

He figured that since the 4 previous days had been balmy it was safe to bet today would be the same.

It was still early spring after all.

 

He dressed hastily, pulling on a pair of khakis, a t-shirt and a blue button down. He shoved his feet in his navy Converse and ran out the door.

He was slightly surprised to see that it was already warmer than yesterday, but he shrugged it off.

 

By the time his lunch break came around he was sweating buckets, and he’d had to remove his over shirt.

The air-conditioning unit was on the fritz and it was stifling in the building. The repair man was called in and, as luck was not ever on his side, he was unavailable until tomorrow.

It sucked balls.

 

He was berating himself, bemoaning the _sudden_ heat wave and having to make numerous trips to the restroom.

Mother Nature obviously hated him because the hotter he got the more he drank and the more he drank the more he had to pee.

It was a vicious circle.

 

He had to go again (he figured it was now the 9th time since he set foot in the office, but he might have lost count along the way), so he grabbed his now empty glass to refill it, yet again, and went to relieve his bladder.

 

He wished it was acceptable to remove his pants in public.

 

-oOo-

 

Derek was a stickler for maintaining his work space in top operating conditions.  

He’d had the foresight to have his A/C unit checked at the beginning of the month which, considering the unseasonably hot weather that was suffocating Beacon Hills, he was eternally grateful for. 

The unit was purring in the back ground, pushing cool air around so he was comfortable as he unpacked his latest order and checked inventory.

 

He chanced a glance through the big display window and shook his head in dismay.

The business in front of his clearly was having issues with their cooling system, the front door was thrown open wide in an attempt to circulate the stifling air.

The cute guy’s t-shirt was darkened with sweat, his pant legs were rolled up to his knees and he was sponging his face with what looked like a balled chambray shirt.  

Some of his coworkers were trying to find relief by fanning themselves with what looked like folded paper and he could clearly see many flushed faces.

 

He debated going over to offer them a bit of respite, he obviously had the space for a few of them to sit and cool down, but he got distracted when a customer came in.

The rest of the day passed in a blur and his good intention had been pushed aside as he catered to his customers.


	4. Chapter 4

The sky was an infinite expanse of brilliant blue, the kind that marked a perfect summer day.

Stiles, well…, Stiles had turned a lovely shade of red.

Think lobster.

 

Of course, he had slathered his pale skin with sunscreen before leaving but that was almost eight hours ago. 

His friends had reminded him numerous times throughout the day that he had to reapply liberal amounts of the white stuff, but he never got to it.

 

They’d been having too much fun, going on all the rides and playing all the Carnival games and, well, he just forgot.

Now he hurt, a lot and he was feeling nauseous.

 

He made his way to the First Aid tent to seek help on how to cool is burning skin.

The two medics currently in service winced when he stepped in and he knew right then that it was worst than he could imagine.

He hung his head as they led him to a stool where he slumped in shame as he removed his tank top.

 

He flinched as cold compresses were applied to his arms, up his neck and to his face, goosebumps erupting along his skin, but he sighed in relief.

Someone handed him painkillers which he promptly washed down with cool water.

The words sunstroke and heatstroke were thrown around and judging by how awful he felt, he knew they were right.

 

Truth be told, he wasn’t even able to say that this would not happen again.

His ADHD would make sure of that.

And because he’s an idiot of course

 

He wanted to go home and wallow in misery, but he was in no condition to drive himself there.

He texted his friends, hoping one of them would volunteer because he sure as hell did not want to have to call his dad.

He’d never hear the end of it….

 

 

-oOo- 

 

It was a beautiful sunny day and Derek had to confess, a bit begrudgingly that is, that he was having fun.

Of course, he hadn’t wanted to come in the first place.

Laura and Cora had managed to convince him, and they’d gone around the fairgrounds a few times already.

 

Cora had had a really bad sunburn a few years back and it had resulted in blisters that had required medical care.

It had been awful, and he’d vowed to take better care of his own skin from that day on, so he’d set up an alarm on his phone to be reminded to reapply sunscreen.

They were all three wearing baseball caps and sunglasses and they were all toting bottles of water to keep hydrated. 

 

He could see a lot of reddened skin already: the bridges of noses and tips of ears, bare shoulders and chests that had not been protected and would surely peel in a few days.

He suddenly grimaced in sympathy at was surely the most pitiful sight of the day: a man walking a few paces in front of him had skin so red he was probably on the verge of second degree burns.

The man turned a bit and Derek recognized the upturned nose and the moles dotting the face of the object of his recent fantasies.

 

He gawked enough that Laura noticed. She looked at what he was staring at and snickered.

“He’s really cute but that’s gotta hurt like a bitch!” 

 

He snorted a laugh and rolled his eyes.

“I’m not surprised. He’s always unprepared. No matter what the weather forecast is he ends up paying for it.”

 

He could feel her staring at him questioningly but kept looking at the red mess that just entered the First Aid tent, a plan slowly germinating in his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles mumbled to himself as he hurriedly made his way to the café around the corner, blowing in his cupped hands to warm them a bit.

The weather had turned again, leaving Beacon Hills in an unseasonably cold spell.

Did he check the forecast before leaving?

Of course not.

He’d been late. Yes, a _gain_.

 

Did he grab a jacket?

Dumb question.

 

At this point he was fairly certain he was on the verge of loosing a few fingers it was so cold.

He walked a bit faster, slipped into the warmth of the small coffee shop and sighed in pleasure.

 

He waited in line a few minutes then placed his order for a large black coffee, which he promptly cradled against his chest, and a chicken sandwich.

He was on his lunch break and he was in no hurry to go back out just yet, so he chose a table as far from the door as possible and sat down to relax and warm up.

 

A sudden wave of cold air curled around his feet and he glared at the newcomer.

His breath hitched as his gaze collided with the prettiest moss green eyes he’d ever seen.

The man they belonged to was gorgeous. With silky black hair and a beard to match he looked to be a bit taller than him with wider shoulders and long, _long_ legs encased in dark denim.

 

He was caught staring and felt the blush creep up to his hairline.

He gulped when the stranger snaked his way around the tables and stopped in front of him, a small smile lightening his beautiful face.

 

“Hi, I’m Derek. I own the bookstore in front of your work place. I hope you won’t think I’m presumptuous, but I noticed you were not wearing a jacket and, well, considering your recent lack of success weather wise, I figured you might want to borrow this.” The tips of his ears turned bright pink as he pushed a bag on the table.

 

Stiles was dumbstruck, mouth hanging open and eyes as big as saucers.

He sputtered. “What do you-  I mean… -what?” He took a deep, steadying breath then promptly dissolved in laughter, his whole body shaking with mirth.

 

The man’s smile grew, his expressive eyebrows hiking up at the surprising response his question had elicited.

Stiles motioned to him that he could have a seat and he promptly sat his tall frame on the vacant chair.

He stuck out his hand over the table top. “I’m Stiles. You’ve needled my curiosity, please tell me how you know about my unfortunately bad relationship with Mother Nature?”

 

He was a bit sheepish as he started on his explanation. “Remember the day you when you walked around your office barefoot because you removed your shoes and socks to let them dry?” He went on and listed all the times he had noticed him battling the elements and Stiles felt an odd warmth grow in his chest.

 

Derek was surprisingly funny and charming, and Stiles had laughed at his recalling of his misfortune.

He was shocked to notice that his lunch hour was already almost over.

He got up to return his cup and plate to the counter then grabbed the bag that contained whatever article of clothing Derek had brought with him.

“Man, it sucks but I have to go back to work.” He shook out an obviously well-loved black leather jacket and promptly slipped his arms in the sleeves, pulling it around his chest.

He was enveloped with a subtle aroma that he had a hard time describing. It smelled clean, reassuring, like the forest after the rain or the ocean after a storm.

 

He was baffled at how _easy_ being here, like this, with this man who was a complete stranger, had turned out to be.

There had been no social awkwardness or anxiety, which was oddly comforting, and it put a satisfied smile on his face.

 

Derek checked his watch as he got up. “It’s ok. I must to go back too. I may be my own boss, but I have a business to run.”

The chitchatted on the way back and he mentioned he’d be bringing the jacket back soon.

He purposefully did not mention when.

 

 

-oOo-

 

Derek had had a plan and, to be honest with himself, he’d been slightly hesitant to put in motion.

A phone call to Laura had ensued and they had fine tuned is idea until he was comfortable enough to act it out.

She had also goaded and teased and issued a bet. There had been name calling involved and threats issued, and she’d deemed him a big fat chicken.

So yeah, because big sisters sucked and there was no way he was letting her trample his honor, he’d rolled his eyes so hard and set the ball in motion.

 

Now, back in the safety of his store, he took the time to analyse the whole ordeal.

Their meeting had been surprisingly enjoyable, and he was unusually satisfied with himself.

Grabbing his old jacket had been a brilliant idea as Stiles obviously needed it.

Laura will be pleased as she had suggested it, but he might not tell her that. She might gloat and take all the credit.

He was cursed with a childish older sibling.

 

He glanced through the large front window and spotted the young man sitting at his desk, the garment hanging on the back of his chair.

The man was so easy going that the encounter had been effortless and uncomplicated, like talking to an old friend.

 

Stiles smiled a lot and that smile did things to his insides, things that he had not felt in a long while and had piqued his wolf’s interest.

Somehow, he smelled like _home_ and _comfort_ and his wolf wanted _more_.

Fuck, let’s be honest. _He_ wanted more.

 

He wanted to drown in Stiles’ whisky colored eyes and lose himself in his smell, in the sound of his husky voice, of his unrestrained full body laugh.

The need to touch his fair skin, to count and kiss the moles dotting its surface had his claws itching to pop out.

He longed to spend hours mapping every curve and plain, to find every pleasure spot and ticklish area of his tall, lean body.

 

He craved his touch, his long fingers on his skin, his perfect cupid’s bow lips tracing the ridges of his own body. 

He wanted, wished, _desired._

Anything and everything and whatever he could get.

 

His concentration was broken a few hours later when movement outside the shop caught his eye. He looked up and burst out laughing.

Stiles was standing up beside his desk, arms waving and flailing to catch his attention. 

He walked to the front and raised his hand in acknowledgement.

Stiles mouthed at him what looked like “hold on” and promptly turned to pick up something from his desk.

He held up a handmade sign, his face split into a huge grin and eyebrows waggling in anticipation.

  

The words “ _U up for Dinner?_ ” were scrawled messily on what looked like an open file folder.

He felt his own face light up in response as he dipped his chin in agreement.

Stiles was gesticulating as he made his way out of his office building, across the street and straight into his own workspace.

 

He popped in front of him in a flurry of movements, stopped dead in his tracks and smiled blindingly. He handed him a business card and uttered a soft “Hi.”

“Hey”. Derek almost swallowed his tongue and grabbed the small piece of proffered cardboard.

“So, you, uh- you really want to go out with me? To have diner, I mean?” Stiles’ soft brown eyes were inquisitive as he nervously licked his lips.

 

He nodded, brows furrowed at how unnerved and uncertain he seemed. “Yeah, I do.” 

“Cool,” He bobbed his head, walking backwards toward the door. “That’s cool. Okay, well, I’m free pretty much every evening so let me know when you want to do this.”

He left just as quickly as he arrived, shimmied in the middle of the road and fist pumped himself.

 

The whole thing had lasted less than five minutes, and Stiles’ hasty retreat had stunned and rooted him to the spot. His brain eventually caught up and he shook himself out of his daze.

He grabbed the first piece of paper he could find, quickly scribbled a note with a black marker and walked quickly to the door, hoping Stiles would glance back at him.

He smirked and held up his message the moment he did, Stiles’ guffaw audible from his side of the street.

 

_“BTW, I’m in charge of checking the weather “_

 


	6. +1

Derek is a nervous wreck.

The butterflies in his stomach have evolved into a swarm of hungry pterodactyls and he thinks he might pass out.

Or throw up.

It’s a toss up and he honestly might do both.

 

His skin itches. It feels too small to fit his body.

The collar of his shirt is too tight against his throat and his hands are clammy, the nail beds prickling with the need for his claws to come out.

 

His wolf started whining an hour ago and he doesn’t know how to _calm him the fuck down_.

There is pressure behind his eyes and he knows the red is bleeding through but he’s unable to get his nerves under control.

 

His breath hitches at the sudden knock at the door and he turns as Laura’s head shows in the opening.

She pushes in the room, eyes wide as she takes him in.

 

She grabs his hand and drags him in the hall. “Hey baby bro. Time's up. Let’s get this show on the road.”

He nods slightly, unable to talk as his gums tingle with the need to drop fangs and his tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth.

 

They make it to the reception area and Laura pauses at the entry. She turns to him, straightens his tie and brushes imaginary lint off his shoulders.

She kisses his cheek and smiles up at him, “He’s waiting. Go get your mate.” and she pushes him in.

 

Stiles is standing serenely at the front of the room, his heart beating strong and even.

He’s looking straight at him and smiles in that way that melts his heart.

His nervousness suddenly dissipates as he walks forward to meet his future husband.

His wolf is finally silent, his skin no longer itches, and he can breathe again.

 

He stops in front of his mate and stares into his dark honey colored eyes and Stiles whispers over the roar of thunder. “Hey babe. Aren’t you happy I insisted on an indoor venue?”  

He loses his composure and laughs so hard he cries while his idiot future husband smiles innocently.

The lights flicker once, twice then the room is plunged in darkness.

 

There is a moment of heavy silence then Stiles deep belly laugh resonates through the room.


End file.
